


NFWMB

by DisplacedKey



Series: Diarmute AU Week 2020 [2]
Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Diarmute AU Week 2020, M/M, Sexual Harassment, Sleazebag Raymond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25403524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisplacedKey/pseuds/DisplacedKey
Summary: The Mute gets a boyfriend, and woe betide anyone who even looks at him wrong.
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Series: Diarmute AU Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838056
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	NFWMB

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Hozier song, because it was very appropriate.

Despite his name, the Mute was not actually mute. He’d gained his nickname because he had an unnerving tendency to carry out all of his kills in complete silence, never responding to taunts, threats, or pleas for mercy. He also didn’t talk much outside of necessary statements or questions. Rua had asked him, years before he’d even taken over the family, why that was. “Don’t have anything to say,” was his only reply. 

Rua never would’ve guessed that David would eventually take over the family. No one did. Yet, when the time came, there he was. Once he got the seat, nobody with an ounce of preservation was going to try and take him off it. A few had tried in the early days, and David quickly made examples of them. Rua had needed to get his entire suit dry-cleaned. The incident had only bolstered his already rock-solid respect for the man. 

David’s reputation grew more terrifying with every passing year, until low-level grunts would be telling each other that the Mute could walk through walls and kill someone by glaring at them too hard. To be fair, the man had a substantial body count and a borderline inhuman ability to take punishment, but he wasn’t a god. 

The first time Rua heard someone say that the Mute just needed to get laid, he smacked them upside the head and threatened to tell David himself, which shut them up. But the idea persisted. It was especially popular with their competition, who made backhanded comments about finding David a reliable prostitute to help him de-stress. David never rose to these jokes, but that didn’t stop people from making them.

“Aren’t you worried about people losing respect for you?” Rua asked once. 

David snorted. “I’m two steps away from being labeled an Angel of Death. One dumb joke about my sex life isn’t going to change that.”

He was right. The joke lingered, but the legend was louder. Whatever his motivation, the Mute could cut down over a dozen men in a single night. He was a ruthless businessman and had a more disciplined family than any other. The question of whether he got laid often enough didn’t matter when compared with the facts.

Diarmuid came out of nowhere. He was a young, slim brunette with curly hair and freckles. He was studying child welfare and psychology at university. He loved sweet foods and cats and was currently dating one of the most feared men in the city’s criminal underworld. David was incredibly protective of him, evidenced by the fact that he’d assigned Rua to be the younger man’s personal bodyguard. Diarmuid had tried arguing with David about it, saying that it wasn’t necessary, but David refused to budge. “No one is going to get the chance to lay a hand on you,” he said. Diarmuid had no choice but to give in.

Rua thought that anyone who tried to lay a hand on Diarmuid had to be either suicidal or colossally stupid. David’s affection for him was clear. In the first month of their relationship, David had bought Diarmuid a second wardrobe’s worth of clothes and jewelry, so Diarmuid showed up to their dates in designer suits, his ears and wrists dripping with gold and emeralds. Since he moved in, David had also gifted him a cat, a brand-new laptop, and a stack of books. 

“You’re going to spoil me,” Diarmuid said after the latest spate of gifts. 

David had smiled and said, “Good.”

In public he was as intimidating as ever, but in private he had become downright soft. Among other things, Rua swore he’d seen David feeding Diarmuid chocolate-covered strawberries by hand. He certainly smiled and laughed a lot more with Diarmuid around. And, rest assured, the criminal underworld no longer had to be worried about David’s sex life. David “de-stressed” loudly and often. 

The two had been together for a little over six months when a group of other mob bosses and their associates visited the house to discuss business. Diarmuid was dressed to the nines in a burgundy three-piece tuxedo and ruby drop earrings, and David matched him in a charcoal grey suit. Diarmuid hung on David’s arm, making light conversation and handing out compliments like candy. For a good while he was the center of attention, with men jostling each other for the opportunity to shake his hand and fetch him champagne. After an hour of this, David made a point of putting his arm around Diarmuid’s waist and smiling in a not-so-friendly way at the guests who’d gotten a bit too affectionate. 

Halfway through the night, Diarmuid excused himself to the bathroom. When ten minutes passed and he hadn’t returned, Rua peeled away to check on him. He found Diarmuid talking to Raymond de Merville, the eldest son of the so-called Baron, the head of another crime family. Or, Rua thought they were talking. Coming closer, he saw that Diarmuid had his back pressed against the wall and his arms folded over his chest in discomfort. Raymond stood barely a foot away from him, looming over him and leering. 

“No,” Diarmuid said firmly. Raymond clicked his tongue.

“Oh, come on now, don’t get too big of an idea of yourself. You’re a piece of ass, nothing more, and I’d love to test out the goods.”

“I said  _ no _ ,” Diarmuid repeated, raising his voice. “You’re wrong. Now get away from me. David will be expecting—”

Raymond reached out as if to grab Diarmuid, and Rua slammed the butt of his pistol into the man’s skull, knocking him out cold. Diarmuid stared at him in shock; the two of them had been so absorbed in their conversation (if it could be called something as friendly as that) that they hadn’t even noticed him approaching. 

“Are you alright?” Rua asked. Diarmuid blinked and stepped away from the wall, straightening his jacket with slightly flushed cheeks.

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

“No it isn’t,” Rua said, heat creeping into his voice. “We may not be upstanding citizens, but we have some morals. There are lines you just don’t cross.”

Diarmuid grimaced. “Well...he said some unpleasant things. Kept propositioning me even though I said no. He...he also said that David was just prettying me up to sell me to the highest bidder, but I know that’s not true.”

Rua contemplated giving Raymond’s prone body a kick in the soft areas but decided against it; David would be the one choosing this asshole’s punishment. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he said to Diarmuid. “Do you need a minute?”

“I’m fine,” Diarmuid said quickly. Rua wasn’t sure he believed him, but he wasn’t going to question it.

“Alright, then let’s go tell David.”

Diarmuid sighed. “Okay.”

They went back to the living room and Rua motioned for David to come talk to them in private. Once in the hall, Diarmuid melted into David’s side. David took in Rua’s grim expression and said, “What happened?”

“Raymond de Merville was harassing Diarmuid,” Rua said. Diarmuid quickly explained the rest, and David’s face went stony with fury.

“Please don’t kill him,” Diarmuid said. “I know he’s a jerk, but I don’t want him dead.”

David’s jaw clenched and unclenched and his index finger twitched like he was pulling a trigger. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Diarmuid said firmly. “No killing.”

David sighed. “Fine. But only because he didn’t actually touch you. Rua, take Diarmuid and go dismiss the rest of the guests while I handle this. The negotiations can wait until another night.”

“Yes, sir,” Rua said. 

The guests cast each other concerned looks but no one argued. The few people who asked after Raymond de Merville were told that he’d be along later. Rua’s wide smile and iron grip on his pistol kept them from asking any more questions. 

Once the guests had cleared out, Diarmuid searched the house and found both David and Raymond missing. “Where are they?” he asked Rua.

“Somewhere soundproof, probably,” Rua said. “Want any more champagne?”

Diarmuid looked worried but accepted the glass. They migrated to the media room, where Diarmuid put on GBBO and piled a plate with pastries. “Comfort show and comfort food,” he said, and offered Rua a cinnamon roll. Rua accepted.

David came back about three hours later, his clothes and face spattered with blood. 

“David!” Diarmuid said, leaping up from the couch. “You said you weren’t going to kill him!”

“He’s alive,” David said. “Won’t be eating solid food for a couple of weeks, though.”

Diarmuid sighed and pulled David in for a kiss. “You didn’t need to do that,” he murmured.

“He insulted you,” David replied. “No one gets to do that.”

They kissed again and Rua got up to leave. He’d been around those two long enough to know where this was headed. Before he went through the door, David stopped him.

“Thank you,” he said. “For protecting him.”

“Anytime,” Rua said. “You two have a good night.”

Diarmuid grinned over David’s shoulder and Rua made a hasty exit. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was the prompt I struggled with the most. The only piece of mob media I've ever seen is the Godfather, which I didn't like, so...*insert shrug emoji*  
> Anyway, enjoy!


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